Another Sunday Dinner at Wayne Manor
by Rick Peterson
Summary: A sequel to "Sunday Dinner at Wayne Manor". Can Bruce & Diana make a relationship work, in spite of personality clashes and outside conflicts? Complete.
1. Sunday Afternoon

Another Sunday Dinner at Wayne Manor

A sequel to "Sunday Dinner at Wayne Manor".  This story is not in continuity with any other of my stories.  Can Bruce and Diana make a relationship work, in spite of personality clashes and outside conflicts?

All characters are the property of DC Comics.  No money is being made on this story and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Alfred insisted on holding my chair as I sat down.  Before he could retire to the kitchen, I asked, "Is this usual?"  Or was Bruce deliberately avoiding me?

"Unfortunately, Madam.  At least in your case, I am not forced to invent excuses for his absence."

"He leaves you to make up the excuses?" I asked sympathetically.

"It is actually one of my more entertaining duties.  I doubt Master Bruce realizes how much I enjoy blackening his reputation."

I sighed.  "I thought the whole point in having dinner so early was to avoid this sort of thing," I complained -- good-naturedly, I hoped.

"No doubt it is after dark in whatever hellhole he has tracked that dastard to."

I sighed again. " I would have been happy to help him."  More than happy.  I owed Ra's al Ghul from our last encounter.

Alfred opened his mouth to respond, but I waved him to silence.  "I know, I know.  To accept aid would be taken as a sign of weakness, implying he needed help to defeat him.  And the Batman never shows weakness."

"It is not so much Ra's al Ghul he must convince, Miss Diana, as himself.  If he were to admit he is only human, that he occasionally needs help, it might undermine his confidence in himself; and without that he WOULD be only human."

"Ahem."

We turned guiltily to the doorway.  Bruce stood there, smiling.  He must have changed downstairs, for he was dressed in slacks and a turtleneck.  He looked... terrible.  I could see bruises forming on his face.

I smiled anyway.  "Ra's al Ghul?" I asked.

His smile wavered slightly.  "He escaped but it will take him months to rebuild, so my time wasn't completely wasted."  His voice was hoarse and I suspected the turtleneck was chosen to cover injuries to his throat.  He tried to saunter casually into the room, but he moved so stiffly that I guessed there was worse covered by his clothing.

Alfred came to the same conclusion, for he immediately responded, "Sir, you must let me see to your injuries."

"Nonsense, Alfred, I can't keep this beautiful woman waiting any longer.  Besides, dinner will be ruined if we have to wait while you fuss over me."

"Bruce, I think you should listen to...."  My voice trailed off as I saw the growing blood stain on his side.

He looked down.  "Damn," he said mildly, "the bandage is leaking."  He turned back to the doorway.  "Alfred, start serving dinner.  I'll just be a minute."

"Sir, please let me care for your wound."

"It's just a scratch.  I've had far worse many times."

"Yes, and you've almost died many times.  The fact that it may not be immediately life-threatening does not mean it does not need to be properly attended to."

Bruce shook his head irritably.

"Sir!  I must protest!"

"Never mind, Alfred," I told him, "just meet us downstairs."  I knocked over my chair as I stood.  I swept Bruce up into my arms and flew down the hallway.  If he hadn't been so tired and hurting, it might not have been so easy but, as it was, I took him completely off-guard.

I felt him tense and told him, "If you try anything, I will knock you out and carry your unconscious body down to the Batcave."

I halted in mid-air in front of the grandfather clock that concealed the entrance to the Batcave.

"So you know where the entrance is, but do you know how to get in?" he asked conversationally.

I grinned and moved the hands of the clock to the correct positions.  The grandfather clock swung out of the way.  "Alfred showed me.  Serves you right for running out on me last time."

After that, he maintained a stony silence as I flew him down the long flight of steps to the Batcave and into the infirmary.  Alfred was already there, evidently having taken some faster route.  I laid Bruce down on the examining table and put my hands on the top of his turtleneck sweater.  With one jerk, I ripped it in two, exposing the bloody bandage on his lower left side.  Concerned that there might be other injuries still hidden, I tore his pants off next.

"Do you always rip the clothes off men on the second date?" he asked in his playboy voice.  "If so, I can't wait to see what you do on the third date."

"Are you planning to show up for that one?"  I asked playfully, then gasped as I took in the sight in front of me.

"Not pretty, is it?" he asked dryly.

Alfred bustled up at that point.  "I am afraid this will hurt, sir," he said and pulled off the bandage.  Bruce hissed softly.  The wound underneath was not wide and the blood oozed rather flowed out, but I worried how deep it was.

"Knife?", I asked.

"Sword," he replied.  "Ra's likes the old ways.  If he had used a machine gun instead, he would have had me."

"The bugger probably watches too many Errol Flynn movies," muttered Alfred.  He looked worried, but he was clearly experienced at dealing with this sort of thing.  For the next half-hour I was reduced to passing him a seemingly endless stream of sponges and staying out of his way as he worked.

It gave me plenty of time to study Bruce's near-naked body.  Pretty it was not.  The latest wound and the various bruises were nothing next to the evidence of earlier injuries.  Knife wounds, bullet wounds and other, less identifiable, wounds littered his body.  It was amazing the man wasn't crippled, let alone that he could still function as the Batman.

Finally Alfred put the finishing touches on a clean, and much neater, bandage.  "You are lucky it missed the kidney," he muttered.  "You cannot afford to lose...." He stopped suddenly and his eyes flicked to me.

I looked at Bruce.  "What can't you afford to lose?  Another kidney?  Have you already lost the other one?"  I looked and saw a bullet wound right about where his right kidney should be.

"Nothing so drastic," he assured me.  "Most of that kidney is still intact and functioning."

"Most," I mused.  "How reassuring."

"I would tell you to rest, sir," Alfred interjected, "but I know I would be wasting my breath."

"Don't worry, Alfred.  I'll see to it that he rests."

"Rest," Bruce said, blinking up at me innocently.  "Is that what they call it these days?"

Alfred looked from Bruce to me.  "I'll leave you two to it, then," he responded cryptically and left.

Bruce started to raise himself up on his elbows.  I put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down again.

"If you try to get up, I will wrestle you back down," I told him imperiously.  "When you have had time to..."

He grinned lasciviously.  "I always enjoy wrestling with YOU, Diana."

I cocked my head and looked at him.  "Do you think your innuendoes will embarrass me?" I asked curiously.

"I wasn't trying to EMBARRASS you."

I colored suddenly, but refused to look away.  "When you have had time to recover a bit," I went on, "I will carry you up to your bedroom."

"Oh, good!"

"To REST!" I shouted.

"I'd be happy to REST with you," he said meaningfully.

"What has gotten into you?" I asked, confused.

"Actually, I was thinking about what I hope will be getting into you," he answered, grinning.  It took me a moment to figure that one out.  Then I started to laugh.

"We both know, Bruce, that if I took you up on the implied offer, you would quickly change your tune."

"Don't be so sure."  He tried to raise himself again, then stopped and winced.  "Then again, maybe you're right."  He slowly lowered himself to the table.

"You are not indestructible," I lectured him, "and your body needs time to heal."

"Unlike you."

I looked at him.  "It's true that I heal much faster than normal and I don't scar.  Does that bother you?"

"Does this," his waved his right hand to indicate his scarred body, "bother you?"

I moved closer and started tracing the scars with a finger.  "You asked me a question a while ago."  I could see how tired he was in the length of time it took him to remember.  "No, it isn't pretty."  I moved my finger to a healed bullet wound in his shoulder.  "It is, however, beautiful."

He looked at me questioningly.

I moved on to a long scar on his upper arm.  "Each of these scars marks an occasion when you put yourself in harm's way to save another.  How could it be anything but beautiful?"

"Most people wouldn't see it that way."

I traced the line of his jaw.  "I am not most people."

"No."  He turned his head and softly kissed my finger.  I looked in his eyes and saw a profound sadness there.  I was suddenly very afraid.  I thought I understood, then, what he was doing.  He was trying to drive me away, first by disgusting me with his innuendo and then with his (to his mind) disfigured body.  Did he understand me so little?  I was saddened by that thought, but it did nothing to change my determination.  I had known this moment would come and had prepared for it.  I would not go, not without a fight.

"Diana," he said suddenly, "this isn't working."

"Stop," I commanded.  "I know what you are going to say."

He looked surprised.

"You are going to say that this was a mistake; that you cannot share even a part of your life with me; that it will only end in pain, like all the others.

"Can't you see that I am not like those others?"

Suddenly, there was no trace of Bruce Wayne in his manner.  His face was the impassive face of the Batman.  "Oh?"

"Yes!" I told him passionately.  I held up my hand and counted off the points.

"First, I already know that you are the Batman.  That secret can't come between us the way it did with Vicki Vale and I won't run away from it like Silver St. Cloud."

"I see Alfred briefed you thoroughly," he replied ironically.  I ignored the interruption.

"I am not helpless.  I won't die on you like Vesper Fairchild."

His voice was suddenly cold and harsh.  "You can't know that.  Our vocation is not exactly a safe one."

"I might die," I admitted, "just like you.  Neither of us knows how much time we have.  That's not a reason not to love, Bruce.  It's a reason not to put off, not to wait.  Better to take a risk now, than to spend the rest of our lives regretting what we missed.  And none of your foes will ever kill me just to get at you.  THAT I can promise."

He grunted, clearly unconvinced.  I continued.

"My father is not a megalomaniac out to take over the world, like Talia."  Suddenly I chuckled.  "That sounds like the plot for a cartoon.  The odd-looking megalomaniac who keeps coming up with bizarre and impractical plans to take over the world and his loyal assistant who always manages, through incompetence or hidden guile, to ensure the plan fails."

"Already been done," he grunted.

"Oh. Well, finally, I'm not a criminal like Catwoman.  The law will never come between us."

"She's reformed," he protested.  "Well, mostly."

"Mostly?" I asked.  "How can you 'mostly' reform?"

"She doesn't steal in Gotham City, except from criminals.  I am fairly sure she still commits an occasional theft outside of Gotham, but I don't care about that."

"You don't care...."  I was speechless.

He started to shrug, winced, and said, "I never did care about her stealing.  She always picks her victims carefully.  People who got their money unethically, if not illegally, or otherwise deserve what happens to them.  I have far more important things to worry about."

I felt a cold panic coagulate in my chest.  "Then why...?"

"The police cared and I have to work with them.  Now that she has taken her crimes elsewhere, it's not an issue.  And she has done a lot of good in the East End, among the poor and dispossessed.  If she wants to play Robin Hood, that's fine with me."

It was getting hard to breathe, but I had to know.  "Do you still love her?"

He smiled gently.  "I thought we resolved the question of who I love last time."

I sighed and smiled back.  "I suppose we did."

"And after such an impassioned defense, how could I think of going back on my declaration?"

A suspicion grew in my mind.  "Are you teasing me?"

"Well, maybe a little."

"Why did you say this isn't working?" I demanded.

He had the grace to look embarrassed.  "I meant Sunday dinner wasn't working.  There are just too many things that can interfere.  I was going to suggest that we meet for lunch one day this week.  It's not as romantic, I admit, but it is less likely to be interrupted."

"You let me go through with my speech for nothing?"

"Not nothing, Diana.  You have no idea how your eyes spark when you get passionate.  I was struck dumb."

"Hah!"

"Does this mean you aren't interested in meeting me for lunch?"  A hint of uncertainty crept into his voice.  He can have no idea just how endearing it is when the absolute assurance of his Batman persona cracks just a little.

"Of course not.  Wednesday?"

"Damn.  Wednesday is the one day I have a lunch meeting I can't skip out on."

"Well, maybe Friday if I rearrange some appointments."  The problem was that, as ambassador for Themyscira, my days are normally packed.  It's my nights that are relatively free, but I knew Bruce wouldn't take a night off just to be with me.

"How about mornings?  Alfred can make us breakfast.  His eggs benedict is divine."

I groaned.  "Mornings are even worse.  Unless it was very early."

"I am normally home, showered and changed by five a.m.  I can't believe your diplomats, bureaucrats and their flunkies get to the office THAT early."

"No.  If I skip my morning workout, that would give us at least three hours."

"Any day but Wednesday.  I need time to sleep before the lunch meeting on Wednesday."

I thought quickly.  Monday wouldn't be a good idea.  Even if we could convince Bruce to skip patrol tonight, it would be best if he could sleep in tomorrow.

"Tuesday?"

"Tuesday it is."

We stared at each other for a moment.  Bruce made to get up.  Irritated at his stubbornness, I leaned over him and pinned his shoulders to the table.  Before I realized he had moved, his right hand was cupping the back of my head, pulling my lips onto his.

When we finally broke for air, he was smirking.  He leaned his head back and said, "I think I'm ready for you to carry me up to bed."

"To REST," I reminded him.

He looked innocent.  "Of course.  I'm looking forward to ... resting."

"ALONE."

"But it is so much more ... stimulating ... to rest together."

I had to suppress a smile.  "Are you sure you're up to so much stimulation?"  I asked skeptically.

He tried moving his left shoulder and grimaced.  "I guess not.  Maybe Tuesday.  We have three hours, after all.  Breakfast won't take three hours.  We'll have to find something to do with the rest of the time."

"Perhaps," I replied non-committally, "if you are a good boy and do as you are told."

"I was hoping to show you just how bad I can be."

I shook my head as I carefully lifted him from the table.  "You are incorrigible, Bruce."

He smirked.  "I know."

Laughing, I flew him up the stairs to Wayne Manor.


	2. Tuesday Morning

Chapter 2  --  Tuesday Morning

 All characters are the property of DC Comics.  No money is being made on this story and no infringement of copyright is intended.

"Alfred," I exclaimed, "Bruce was right!  This IS divine."

"Thank you, Miss Diana."

"Hmph," Bruce snorted from the opposite side of the small kitchen table.  I didn't think it was intended as a negative, but rather as a general expression of discontent.  He sat hunched over his own share of the Eggs Benedict, pushing it around the plate with his fork.  He had promised me Sunday night that he would not go out on patrol, but instead go to bed and give his wounds a chance to heal.  Since I had never known the Batman to go back on his word, I was sure he had done so; just as I was sure he had gone out early last night and worked twice as hard as usual to prove to everyone that he could do it.  He was paying for it now.  The bruises that had been starting to form on Sunday now discolored his face and I could see the pain flicker in his eyes when he moved incautiously.

He looked up suddenly and snapped, "Sit down, Alfred!"

Alfred looked scandalized.  "Most certainly not, sir."

"Why not?"  He looked at me.  "Breakfast is the only meal I have ever been able to convince him to eat with me and then only if it is served here in the kitchen."  His surly expression softened and he looked back at Alfred.  "I miss the company," he told him.

"You have other company this morning, sir," Alfred responded.  "It would be most improper for me to join you when there is company present."

"Why?" I asked.  "I know the customs are different in Patriarch's World but I would feel more comfortable if you would sit with us.  It would feel more like home."

"You're going to make Diana think you don't like her," Bruce threw in, which earned him a severe look.

"Please," I added.  "Otherwise I will only have Bruce to talk to and I don't think his conversation will be very enlivening this morning."

Alfred snorted at that and, looking uncertain, sat down.  He dished himself up some of the Eggs Benedict, being careful to leave plenty for us.  No one seemed to know what to say, so we all ate.  I was tempted to make some pointless comment on the weather or the Gotham Knights' chances this year (Cassie was determined to teach me to enjoy baseball, although I couldn't see the point to it) but desisted.

When the silence started to become oppressive, I turned to Alfred and asked, "Is he always this grumpy in the morning or is it because he overdid things last night?"

Bruce scowled.  Alfred replied, "He is not normally a morning person, Miss Diana, but I am sure last night's exertions did not help."

"I'm sorry everyone finds me so unpleasant," Bruce snapped.

"Not at all," I told him.  "Actually I think it is rather sweet."  Bruce scowled more fiercely than ever.  "I'm sure poor Alfred doesn't appreciate being exposed to it everyday, but knowing that the great Batman is..." I searched for the very expressive phrase Julia Kapatelis used to use and found it, "as grumpy as a bear with a sore head in the morning is rather reassuring.  It makes you seem more human, somehow."

"Human, yes, Miss Diana.  He certainly is that."

In an obvious bid to change the topic, Bruce said, "Alfred was a Shakespearean actor before entering service."

"Really?"  I turned to Alfred.  "What roles did you perform?"

This safe topic occupied us until we had all three finished eating.  I was surprised at how knowledgeable Bruce was on the topic and then was surprised that I had been surprised.  Why wouldn't Alfred have shared his knowledge with the man he clearly looked upon almost as a son?

As Alfred went off with the dirty dishes, Bruce turned to me.  "What would you like to do now?"

I had been debating just that since the last time I had been here and still had no answer.   Trying desperately to postpone making a decision, I asked, "Can't we help Alfred with the dishes?"

Bruce smirked.  "I have been banned from cooking or cleaning in his kitchen."

Alfred looked over his shoulder.  "Quite true, Miss Diana.  The consequences are not to be thought of."  He shuddered delicately.

Such panic was beneath an amazon.  Squaring my shoulders, I said, "There was something you wanted to show me the last time I was here, Bruce.  Perhaps now would be a good time?"

Bruce's eyes widened as he realized what I was asking.  "Of course," he said, rather reluctantly.  "Alfred, if you will excuse us?"

A slight smile flitted across Alfred's face.  "You children go have fun."

I think we both reddened at this remark.  We proceeded silently upstairs but Bruce stopped and turned to me in the second floor hallway.

"Do you really want to do this, Diana?  You seemed undecided before."

"You mean, I didn't rise to your baiting."

"Well, yes."  He looked a little green.  Perhaps he was feeling unwell.

"Are your injuries paining too much to wish to have sex?" I asked.

"Of course not!" he snapped.  But he still looked unhappy.

"I don't have as much as experience in these matters as you do...."

"Neither do I, Diana."

I stared at him, perplexed.  I had never heard him utter such a nonsensical statement before and I wondered, briefly, if this was a sign of the imminent end of days.

"That is, I mean... Bruce Wayne has this very overblown reputation and it's not really deserved."

I had borrowed 'The Joy of Sex' from Helena Sandsmark and done some reading so as not to be completely ignorant.  I thought of something that might make sense of this seeming nonsense.

"Are you afraid you won't be able to satisfy me?"

His eyes suddenly got larger, as if this was something that had not occurred to him.  He gulped.  I cursed myself for making things worse.  Another thought occurred to me.

"Are you impo...."

"No!" he shouted.

I remembered what I had said the last time I was here: if I took him up on his invitation, he would quickly change his tune.  It appeared I was right.  But I found that the more he prevaricated, the more certain I became that I wished to do this.

"Well, then I don't see what the problem is.  You cannot have less experience than I.  I have no expectations, so you cannot disappoint me.  Let us try it and see what happens."

He rubbed the back of his neck.  "This is your first time, Diana."

I nodded to indicate I was aware of this fact.

"I don't want it to be rushed or... or anything less than perfect."

"We have nearly two hours.  Won't that be enough?"

He gulped and nodded.  I was starting to get impatient.

"Bruce, am I going to have to tie you to the bed post and have my way with you?"

He goggled at me.  Then a corner of his mouth turned up and he waggled his eyebrows.  "A little kinky for the first time, don't you think?"

"What I think is that you don't want to have sex with me."

He abruptly turned away.  My heart sank; that didn't seem a good sign.

"Do you remember what you said to me the first time you were here?"

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me.  Before I could reply, however, he continued, "The last thing you said to me?"

"About needing the World's Greatest... oh.  You mean loving you as a friend but not being sure what else?"

He nodded.  "Oh, Bruce...."

"I don't want you to say, afterwards, 'Well, that was nice but I think we should just be friends'."

"Oh, Bruce...."

"I think it would break my heart, Diana.  I think I could take just about anything except that."

"Bruce."  I stepped up behind him and turned him around.  "I am not going to break your heart."

His troubled eyes looked into mine.  "How can you promise that?"

"I can't promise that what I feel for you will never change, but I can tell you that, here and now, I love you.  Not just as a friend, but as a man.  The man I want to spend my time with.  The man I want to have sex with."

His smile, when it came, was not the Batman's lip twitch or the playboy's leer or the knowing smirk or the mischievous grin.  Instead, the glow started in his eyes and spread slowly across his face until almost I felt the need to shield my eyes from it.  For a moment, I saw the man he would have been, if only things had gone differently in that lonely alley so many years ago.  My heart wanted to break at the thought of all he had lost; at the same time that it wanted to take wing at the thought that I had brought him such happiness.

Then the glow subsided and his eyes were troubled once more.

"Bruce?"

He looked down.  "It won't last," he said.  "Nothing good ever has."

"You are the last man I would have expected to be superstitious, Bruce."

"Not superstitious, just realistic.  I won't run away or try to drive you off, but I will understand when you leave."

"No happily ever after for you, is that it?"

He nodded, still studying the floor.

"But to have a story-book ending, the knight must first find his princess."

He looked up at this.  There was a look of such hunger in his eyes that I felt both frightened and elated.

He put his arms around me, gently and lovingly.  "And now I have."

I put my arms around his neck.  "And now you have."  And this time, I kissed HIM.

 ****************************************************************  

My head lay on his chest and I listened to the rhythmic beating of his heart and the gentle susurrus of his breathing.  I felt sweaty and lethargic and peaceful and content.

"So," his voice rumbled in his chest.  "Did I satisfy you?"

I thought about that for a while.

"Diana?"  His voice had that thin thread of uncertainty that I found so endearing.  I smiled.

"I was just counting up how many times you 'satisfied' me," I told him, trying unsuccessfully to keep the smile out of my voice.

He chuckled.

"Since I expect you to exceed your record next time, I have to remember what that record is, after all."

"Uh...."

"It's just like a training exercise, isn't it?  First we set a record; then we work to beat it."

"Not EXACTLY like a training exercise," he suggested.  I considered that for a moment.

"Can you imagine Kal barging in on one of these 'training exercises'?" I laughed.

"CLARK wouldn't be the worst," he responded.  "Think of Firestorm."  That deserved a belly laugh.  We lay together for another few minutes.  Then....

"It's time for you to go."

I wanted to object.  I wanted to say, 'Let me call and cancel all of my appointments.  Then we can spend the day together.'  But I had my responsibilities and he needed his sleep.  I got up and searched around for my clothes.  I had never guessed how much fun (and excitement) there could be in just taking off clothes.

"When can I see you again?"

I groaned silently.  "Friday morning?  I have an early appointment on Thursday."  Three days.  How could I wait three days?

"All right."  He got up and kissed me.  "Until Friday.  Stay safe."

"Be careful."

"Always."

It was going to be a long three days.


	3. Friday Morning

Chapter 3 --  Friday Morning

 All characters are the property of DC Comics.  No money is being made on this story and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Note: This story takes place before the events in "Graduation Day". 

Bruce was waiting in the Batcave when I materialized in the JLA transporter.  He looked apologetic, as well he might.  I nodded regally to him and stepped off the transporter dais.  I had not expected an apology and was touched that he was ready to offer one.  I would accept it, of course.  I had no desire to be angry with him.

"Dick is here.  He had business in Gotham and thought he would stop by for some of Alfred's chocolate chip pancakes.  Sorry."

I grimaced, but told him, truthfully, "I don't mind."  Of course he wasn't apologizing for his actions.  I should have known he wouldn't.  I doubted that the idea had even occurred to him.  Well, I had known what he was like when I fell in love with him.  The bad with the good, I told myself, you don't get to pick and choose.  I shook my head at my foolishness and gave him as genuine a smile as I could manage.

"You haven't told him, have you?" I asked as we walked up the stairs.

He shook his head.

"Are you ashamed of me?" I asked, only half in jest.

"No," he said simply.  After a moment, he added, "I'm still getting used to the idea.  I want you to myself for a while longer before I have to deal with other people's reactions.  Dick's okay, he won't tell anybody outside the family.  Of course, I'll get some teasing from them, but I can handle that.  But I'd rather keep it in the family for now."

"I haven't told anyone.  Helena Sandsmark knows I'm seeing someone."  Actually she must know I was having sex with someone, but I felt it impolitic to be so specific.  "But she doesn't know who," and would probably freak when she found out.

"Is she discreet?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't mind you telling her, if you want, but don't tell Donna or Cassie."  I stiffened at the command.  He must have noticed, for he added a very belated, "please."

"My sister Donna is discreet," I told him frostily.

"Donna is the biggest gossip in the superhero community.  It would kill her to have such a juicy piece of gossip and not be able to share it."  He smiled crookedly.  "That would be too cruel."

I didn't reply as I digested this.  Donna had often shared gossip with me, but I had never realized that she was so ... so ... promiscuous about it.

Bruce interrupted these thoughts.  "Of course, I'm not the one who will have to deal with the fallout.  Most of the superheroes are too afraid of me to give me any trouble.  Instead, they'll be bothering YOU, asking you, 'What can you possibly see in him?'"

He accompanied his words with a self-deprecating smile, but I could see the question in his eyes.

"I see one of the finest individuals I know," I said firmly, "and the man I love."

He stopped and turned to face me.  "If you keep talking like that," he said in a low, throaty voice, "we will miss breakfast."

"I think Alfred and Dick can wait a minute or two," I told him softly.

It was more than a couple of minutes later when we finally broke apart and I said, a little breathlessly,  "Any more of that and we WILL miss breakfast."

He reached for me again.  "That would be one solution."

"Bruce," I responded warningly.

He sighed dramatically.  "Maybe later." We continued up the stairs and through the grandfather clock.

"Perhaps, if you're a good boy."

"I though it was the bad boys the women were attracted to," he complained good-naturedly.

"I don't know," I mused.  "Back home it wasn't the bad BOYS we were all attracted to."

"Well, that puts me in my place."

He held open the door into the kitchen for me.

"Hi, Dick!" I called out as I entered.  Dick was seated at the small kitchen table.  He stood immediately.

"Diana!  What are you doing here?"

If you really don't know, I thought with amusement, then Bruce wasted his time training you.  I was sure my hair was mussed and my face still flushed and there were probably other indications of what we had just been doing that someone trained by the World's Greatest Detective should be able to spot.

Alfred came to my rescue.  "Now, Master Richard.  Is that how you greet a lady?"

"Sorry, Alfred; sorry, Diana.  It's just that I haven't seen you in a while and never...."

Never in the manor, I thought.  "I'm here for breakfast," I told him breezily.  "I understand Alfred is making his famous chocolate chip pancakes."

"Yes!" Dick responded enthusiastically, although I could tell he was looking us over carefully and drawing his, somewhat belated, conclusions.  "He always makes them when I come home."

"Which is why you always show up at breakfast time," Bruce retorted.

Dick sat down again and leaned his chair back on two legs.  "Not fair!  It's because I have put in a long, hard night of superheroing and need sustenance," he responded.

"Or spent the night at the Clocktower."

"Well, sometimes," Dick admitted.  I wondered what the Clocktower was that Dick would spend the night there, but at that point Alfred returned with a platter full of pancakes.  He tut-tutted at Dick, who immediately brought all four legs of the chair back to earth.

"Thanks, Alfred!"

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Yes, thank you, Alfred."

As he turned to go, I protested, "Aren't you going to join us, Alfred?"

"Yes, Alfred, please sit down," Bruce added softly.  Dick's eyes went wide as Alfred hesitated, then sat down.  We all dug into the pancakes with relish.  They were so tasty that it seemed a crime to put anything on them, although Dick seemed determined to drown his in maple syrup.

After this had gone on for a while, Dick leaned his chair back again and sighed in contentment.  "That is SO much better than the health food crap Babs serves for breakfast," he said.

At Bruce's snort, he added defensively, "Hey, I DID put in a hard night's work.  I'm just explaining why I come here for breakfast instead of going over to the Clocktower."

"Sure you are," Bruce replied mockingly.  I realized that there was something odd about the way Dick was leaning back in his chair.  I leaned over to look and saw that neither his arms nor his legs were propped against the table or, in fact, anything at all.  He was keeping the chair balanced on two legs purely through ... balance.  I shook my head in wonderment.  What an unusual family.

In the meantime, obviously anxious to change the topic, Dick asked, "So how did the big debate go?  The JLA off on another mission in space or what?"

I stiffened at that, but said nothing.  Bruce's eyes flickered my way, then he said,  "The Flash told you about that."  It was not a question.  "It's been almost twelve hours since the meeting.  If he hasn't told you our decision, then The Fastest Mouth Alive must be slowing down."

"Hey! That's not fair.  The guy really respects you, you shouldn't diss him like that."

Bruce was unfazed.  "The Flash is a professional," that was his highest praise, I knew, "but he is the second biggest gossip in the superhero community."

Dick chuckled.  "Yeah, I guess even Wally can't match Donna in that department."

I felt slightly stunned at that pronouncement.  Was Donna really that much of a gossip?

Dick saw my reaction.  "No offense, Diana, but it's true.  Donna loves to gossip.  But," he turned back to Bruce, "that doesn't answer my question.  Give, big guy.  More Adventure in Space or not?""

Bruce's eyes flickered my way again.  "For now, we are going to watch the situation on D'K'Nor."  Considering the language was not intended for the human throat, his pronunciation was quite good.  "If the situation worsens, we will review the matter."

"Alright!" Dick gloated.  "That's why Wally's made himself scarce.  He doesn't want to admit he lost the bet.  I told him the Forces of Reason would prevail."  He rubbed his hands together in glee.  I exploded.

"Forces of Reason?  That's what you call abandoning an innocent race to the tender mercies of alien aggressors?"

Dick looked taken aback.  "Ah, I guess the decision wasn't unanimous."

"You guess right.  I do not, will NEVER agree to such a pusillanimous course of action!"

I realized I was standing.  Bruce looked up at me calmly.

"I suppose," I told Dick scathingly, "that you subscribe to his 'Victory Disease' theory."

"Victory Disease?" asked Dick, confused.

"I imagine, Master Richard," interjected Alfred, "that Master Bruce drew an analogy to the Japanese in World War 2."

Bruce nodded.

"Uh, we didn't get to World War 2 in World History," Dick replied uneasily.  "We ran out of time right about the League of Nations."

Bruce sighed.  "When the Japanese entered World War 2," he explained to Dick, "they ran up an amazing string of victories, smashing the American fleet at Pearl Harbor and overrunning southeast Asia in barely half the time they had allowed for and with negligible losses."

"Whereas, the league has never conquered anyone, nor wanted to," I interjected.

Bruce's eyes flashed.  "I never meant to imply otherwise," he answered evenly.  'And you know it' hung, unsaid, in the air.  I did know it.  It was an unfair slur.  I sighed and sat back down.

"All the easy victories made them cocky," Bruce continued.  "Instead of going over to the defensive, as they had originally planned, they embarked on a series of ever more grandiose conquests.  The result was that they became overextended and suffered a crushing defeat at the Battle of Midway."

Bruce sighed.  "If you ever want to read about courage and daring and winning against the odds, pick up 'Incredible Victory'.  It tells the story of the battle.  Afterwards the Japanese themselves could not understand how they could have blundered so badly.  They blamed it on 'victory disease': the unconscious assumption that, because they had always won, they always would."

"So you believe, sir," Alfred asked, "that the league suffers from 'victory disease'?"

I sniffed disdainfully.  Bruce ignored it.

"Yes.  The analogy is not exact, of course, but there is an important lesson there.  We cannot afford to get cocky and we cannot afford to overextend ourselves.  The universe is a big, dangerous place and there are powers out there that dwarf anything we possess.  We cannot be the galaxy's policemen.  We don't have the power or the personnel.  If we try, we will stretch ourselves thin and invite defeat.  And if the league is defeated off in space, then the Earth loses its first, best line of defense.  And what happens if a crisis comes up on Earth when we are off helping some other race?"

"And what about the other races that we could be helping?" I demanded.  "Do they not matter?  Are we humans somehow so much more important that we shouldn't try to help others because it might, possibly, endanger the Earth?  We are not, after all, the only superheroes Earth possesses."

"But we remain the best, most effective team," Bruce replied calmly.  "But you have put your finger on the nub of the problem.  How far are we justified in placing the Earth at risk in order to aid other races?  My answer is that, for me, Earth IS more important.  Not to the universe, perhaps, or to any higher power or greater purpose, but to ME.  Everyone that I know and care about resides on this planet.  They are not all human, but they ARE all residents of Earth.  And so its safety outranks nearly all other considerations."

"I cannot understand that attitude; I cannot accept it!  It is chauvinist and narrow-minded and, yes, even bigoted.  That is not you, Bruce!"

"I would dispute 'bigoted'.  I do not claim we are better than other races, merely that we are more important to ME.  For the rest, yes, that is exactly correct.  I am chauvinistic and narrow minded on this topic.  I can understand and even share your concern for other races, but for me the safety of the Earth comes first."

"And our saving Kylaq from the Peacemaker?  Thwarting Kanjar Ro's plots?  That means nothing to you?"

"I am glad the intervention was successful; but I think we were lucky and I don't think we can count on being so lucky next time.  I think the other members have come to the same conclusion and that is why they decided to wait and see on this one.

"There are other concerns as well.  Each time we intervene in another planet's problems we create the expectation that we will be there the next time something happens.  How can we hope to fulfill those expectations?  If something comes up on Earth at the same time another race needs our help, do we say: sorry, maybe next time?  And if potential aggressors realize they can get us out of the way by creating a diversion on some other world, we could well come back from a mission to find the Earth conquered and the invaders set up and ready for us.  Or imagine Darkseid, say, deciding that all these mettlesome metahumans are more trouble than they're worth.  I don't want to come home to a burnt out husk of a world."

"If!" I shouted, "IF!  You would trade the concrete good we CAN do against the chance that maybe, possibly some harm could come of it.  How do you ever get out of bed in the morning, Bruce?  After all, you could slip and break your neck in the shower or cut your throat shaving!""  
  


He looked me squarely in the eye and said, "Yes, if.  Contingency planning is what I do."

I glared at him in sudden, unspeaking anger.  He was obviously referring to his 'protocols'; the contingency plans he had devised to take down the rest of the league if he ever thought it was necessary; the plans Ra's al Ghul stole and used to all but kill me.  How dare he?  HOW DARE HE?

Before I could find words to express my anger, he added, "None of this is new.  I have said it all before.  So I have to wonder why you thought I would change my opinion now?"

I froze for a moment in shock.  I wanted to shatter the table with a blow; I wanted to break his face; I wanted to....  I did none of that.  Instead, I stood, planted my fists on the table and leaned over him.  With my mouths inches away from his, I hissed, "I resent your implication."

Bruce wasn't intimidated, of course.  He looked at me with those hooded unyielding eyes and a shiver of uncertainty ran up my spine.  He HAD said all this before, although never in quite such a cold, calculating way.  Did I expect that, because we had sex, Bruce would change his opinions to conform to mine?  I couldn't be that unreasonable, could I?

Needing to be certain, I sat back down and reached into my handbag, where I had stowed my Lasso of Truth.  Seeing this, Bruce sat bolt upright in his chair.

"Diana, I don't think that's...."

Ignoring him, I touched the lasso. Certainty flooded through me.

"I hoped you had changed your opinion," I stated loudly, interrupting him, "because these last few days I have met a very different side of you, one that is loving and caring in a way that I had not believed possible.  And I cannot believe that such a man could be so uncaring and heartless to the plight of another race.  That is why I hoped you had changed your mind," I added thoughtlessly, "not because we had sex."

Oops.  A loud crash followed as Dick lost his balance and fell over backwards.  He was up again in an instant, evidently unharmed.

"What... uh... you... um... I... ah... er... you probably want to continue this discussion in private."  He started to leave.  Alfred, who had merely raised an eyebrow at my gaffe, stood.

"That's all right, Dick, Alfred," Bruce replied calmly, "we'll take our conversation to the study."  He helped me to my feet and, with a tight grip on my elbow, led me out of the kitchen.  My anger, which had temporarily dissipated, returned in full force.  I wasn't ashamed that we had had sex.  If he was, that was his problem.

As soon as he had closed the door behind us, he turned back to me and all of the anger that he hadn't shown down in the kitchen flooded into his face.

"You can rag on me in the Watchtower or the Cave all you want, but you will NOT bring these arguments into my house," he told me in a low, dangerous voice.

I was not about to back down.  "I know you have compartmentalized your life, so that the Batman's concerns don't come into Bruce Wayne's home, but I cannot and will not do that, not even for you.  Wonder Woman and Diana of Themyscira are one and the same and if something upsets one, the other is...."

He interrupted me.  "We are not teammates up here," he said roughly.  "Up here," an odd, almost frightened look passed over my face.  It grabbed my attention in spite of my anger.  "Up here," he continued in a choked voice, "up here we are lovers."

There was a wonderment and awe in his voice that stole my heart away.  The anger receded.  It did not disappear and I knew that we would be revisiting this issue, probably many times. But he was right.  Here and now it didn't matter, here and now other things were more important.

"Lovers," I said, rolling the word around on my tongue.  "Lovers.  I'm still getting used to the idea."

"So am I," he said softly.

"This is such a new thing for both of us," I told him.  "I don't think we are very good at it yet.  I think we need to practice more.  Why don't we go up to your bedroom and practice?"

A slow smile spread across his face.  "I think that's a very good idea."

 *********************************************

"I still think you're wrong," I told him softly, sometime later as I rested my head on his chest.

"I know."

"And I will 'rag' on you about it when we're in the Watchtower and maybe even when we're in the Batcave."

"I know."

"But for now...."  I sighed in contentment.  We lay there for a while longer.

"How much time do we have?"

"Five more minutes."  He never seemed to look at a clock and I wondered how he always knew.  I sighed.  Only five more minutes of this and then I had to get up and go to a meeting that would accomplish nothing except to try my patience.

"You know...."  I broke off.  It might not be a wise thing to say.

"What?"  I recognized that tone of voice.  He would not be satisfied until I told him.  So I took a deep breath, let it out and chose my words with care.

"I enjoy the sex, I really do!  It is great.  But in some ways, just lying here with you...."

"I know.  It's the difference between having sex and making love."

"Is it?"  I thought about it for a moment and decided he must be right.  If all you wanted was the sex, then why linger after it was over?  But if the sex was just a part of loving someone, then it made sense that being together and enjoying having had sex might be as much fun as the sex itself.  I wondered what it would be like just lying next to this man without the sex.  We would have to try it some time.

"It's time."  I made a face, but got up.

"When?" he asked.  I had been thinking of that myself.

"Sunday?  I have only one appointment and that's late afternoon, so we would have all of the morning and most of the afternoon."  It sounded like incredible riches next to the few stolen hours we had had together up until now.  "Unless you...."

"No, that will work.  However, we are likely to have company."

"Oh?"

"By Sunday, the entire Batclan will know we are sleeping together."

Actually, I thought, sleep was the one thing we HADN'T done together.

"So they will either be here in mass or send a representative to check you out."  He grinned.  "To see how anyone could be crazy enough to want a relationship with me."

"Oh joy," I replied hollowly.  I had met most members of the family he had created for himself and looked forward to getting to know them better; but I did not look forward to being questioned about my relationship with Bruce or examined like some strange specimen that needed to be correctly catalogued.

"Don't worry; it shouldn't be too bad.  They are all so in awe of you that they'll go easy.  But I didn't want you to be taken by surprise."

"Well," well, I could handle it.  I've fought Darkseid; I could do this.  "Until Sunday, then."

We kissed.  "Until Sunday."

Author's Note:  The JLA's 'mission in space' involving Kylaq, the Peacemaker and Kanjar Ro can be read in JLA 78-79.  It would have taken place just before Bruce and Diana's first date.


	4. Sunday Morning

Chapter 4  --  Sunday Morning

 All characters are the property of DC Comics.  No money is being made on this story and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Note: This story takes place before the events in "Graduation Day". 

This time Bruce was not waiting for me as I materialized on the transporter pad in the Batcave.  I was a little surprised, but shrugged and flew up the stairs to the house.  Once past the grandfather clock, I thought it best not to fly, so I walked down the steps and through the drawing room into the kitchen.

"GOOD MORning," I called, realizing halfway through that Bruce and Alfred had a guest.  She looked to be seven or eight years younger than Bruce, with shoulder-length red hair and green eyes whose beauty could not be hidden by her glasses.  But the thing I noticed first was the wheelchair she sat in.

"Good morning, Diana," Bruce answered calmly, although I thought I detected a twinkle in his eyes.  "Sorry I wasn't there to greet you but we had an unexpected guest.  This is Barbara Gordon, a friend of the family.  Both families," he added rather cryptically.

"Oh.  I'm glad to meet you, Barbara."

"And I'm glad to meet you, Diana."

We shook hands.  I looked hesitantly at Bruce.  I took his comment to mean that she knew about his other identity, but I didn't want to say anything revealing without a more definite indication.

Bruce picked up on my uncertainty and said, rather ironically, "Oh, we have no secrets from Barbara."

I raised an eyebrow at this.  "You must be a most remarkable woman, in that case."

Barbara smiled.  Bruce replied, simply, "Yes."

I realized that she must be the 'representative' of the Batclan that Bruce had predicted would show up. Why this woman, rather than Dick or Robin or the new Batgirl, I didn't know.  Bruce held my chair as I sat down and tried to puzzle it out.  Something about her seemed familiar.

"Have we ever met before?"

Barbara's eyes darted to Bruce, who gave her an "I-told-you-so" smile.

"Yes," she said.  "Quite a few years ago, we met, briefly.  I'm surprised you remember."

"I don't really.  You just look familiar, somehow."

Barbara smiled, but it seemed strained.  "Considering how many people you must meet, that's still impressive."

I tried to recall meeting her.  Barbara Gordon, Gotham City....

"Any relation to James Gordon, the former police commissioner?"

Barbara replied, rather reservedly, "He's my father."  Well, that was a connection of sorts to the 'Bat family'.  I remembered something Dick had said last time, about visiting Babs at the Clocktower and Bruce saying that Dick sometimes spent the night there.  This Barbara, I thought, was almost certainly Dick's 'Babs' and so probably his girlfriend.  That explained a lot.

"So you're here to find out if I really am crazy enough to want a relationship with Bruce?" I asked, remembering what else Bruce had said the last time I was here.

I heard a choking sound from Bruce.  Alfred raised an eyebrow.  Barbara blinked and then grinned.  "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.  I'm supposed to bring a report back to Robin, Batgirl, Spoiler and Dinah, who all think Dick must have been hallucinating," she confided.

I smiled at this.

"As a result of sugar poisoning from all the chocolate chip pancakes and maple syrup he ate, no doubt," Bruce put in dryly.

Barbara looked envious.  Alfred interjected, "I would be happy to make you chocolate chip pancakes, if you wish, Miss Barbara."

She looked tempted but resolutely shook her head.  "Granola and a banana, if it's not too much trouble, Alfred."

"Not at all."  He turned and headed off to fetch the granola.

"We'll be having crepes and homemade Loganberry jelly," Bruce told me.

"Loganberry jelly?" I asked.

"From the Pacific Northwest.  There is a company that produces it commercially, but Alfred has found a couple of little old ladies who make it especially for him.  He buys their entire output at some extravagant price and has it FedEx'd here.  It supplements their retirement, they enjoy making it for 'someone who really appreciates it' and we get a taste treat."

I glanced at Barbara and Bruce added, "Barbara won't have any.  Too many calories."

She looked glum.  "I have to watch what I eat."

She didn't look like she had an ounce of excess fat on her, but perhaps that was because she watched what she ate so carefully.  I didn't comment as I had found that many women are quite irrational on the subject of their weight.

Instead, I said, "Getting back to the original topic...."  I immediately had their attention.  Since my statements on this subject seemed to produce an inordinate amount of choking and coughing, I felt I had better get it out of the way before we starting eating, to minimize the risk of serious consequences.

"Yes, Bruce and I are having sex."  Right on schedule, Barbara choked and then started coughing.  It did not look life threatening, so I continued.  "Yes, we are trying to have a 'relationship'.  I love him and he loves me."

I stopped at that point and surveyed my audience with some concern.  Poor Bruce looked slightly stunned by my pronouncements and Barbara was now coughing worse than ever.  I started to become concerned but, when I got up to help her, she waved me back.

"Wow," she said after a minute.  "I heard you were big on the truth, but I never expected....  Wow."

"Should I not have said so much?" I asked Bruce.  "After what I blurted to Dick, there didn't seem any point in concealment."

Bruce had recovered his poise and now shrugged.  "She didn't choke to death, so I would say you did fine," he replied.

Barbara grinned again.  "Oh, I'm not complaining.  The others are going to be so mad they missed this.  Serves them right for chickening out and sticking me with the job.  So, give.  When did all this happen?"

"I don't think we need to...." Bruce tried to interject.

"Bruce kissed me when we were back in Bronze Age Atlantis, rescuing Orin."

"We were about to die," Bruce interposed.  "I don't think it was...."

"Really?"  Barbara looked at Bruce, impressed.  "I wouldn't have thought he had it in him."

"Thanks, Barbara.  I appreciate the vote of confidence."  We ignored Bruce's attempt at sarcasm.

"So when we got back, I said we had to talk and he invited me over for dinner.  That was two weeks ago."

"Ah ha!  So that's why you cancelled on Dick the last two Sundays!" Barbara crowed.  When I looked confused, she explained.  "Sunday night is usually when Dick comes over for dinner.  But the last two Sundays, Bruce said he couldn't make it.  He SAID he had too much WORK."

We both turned and glared at Bruce.

"I did have too much work..."

"Is that what I am?" I asked sweetly.  "Work?"

"Resolving the ... complications arising from that kiss WAS work-related," he answered, as if explaining to a slow pre-schooler.  "And the next week, there was the matter of Ra's al Ghul."

"That's true," I told Barbara.  "He showed up late, with a sword wound."  I turned to Bruce.  "How is that healing?"

He waved away my concern.  "It's fine, but I would rather you not...."

I turned back to Barbara.  "Actually, both Sundays were pretty much flops.  The first time, he had to leave early when the Batsignal came on.  But at least he admitted he loved me before he left."

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

We both turned to face Bruce.

"Barbara, I tolerated this because I know that all of you... care about me and are... concerned for me."  He spoke in the cold, commanding voice of the Batman.  "But you have now heard all you need to know.  The rest is private."

We looked at Bruce.  We looked at each other.

"So, he really said he loved you?" Barbara asked me.  I nodded happily.  Bruce sighed.

"Yes, he did, although I didn't tell him I loved him until the third date, just before we...."

"DIANA!"

"Does having sex on the third date make me a 'loose woman'?" I asked Barbara curiously.  I had been wondering about this, but had no one to ask.  Bruce sighed again, more loudly.

"Well," Barbara replied judiciously, "you've known him for years, it's not like it's someone you picked up in a bar.  So I'd say that, if anything, that's on the conservative side," she finished up reassuringly.

"Oh," I said.  "That's too bad.  I rather liked the idea of being a 'loose woman'."

"Diana," Bruce interjected.  "No one will EVER call you a 'loose woman'.  Now, if we can change the...."

"Oh well," I sighed.  "I suppose not."

Barbara glanced at Bruce and she asked, mischievously, "So how is he in bed?"

Bruce's fist slammed down onto the kitchen table with a sound like Zeus's thunderbolts.

"That is NOT a topic that will be discussed at MY table," he said in a voice of doom.  "EVER."

"Surely, Master Bruce, I taught you never to raise your voice to a lady," commented Alfred reprovingly as he wheeled a food trolley into the breakfast nook.

"Uh."  Bruce reddened.  "Well...."

"We will speak of this later, sir" Alfred informed him as he brought forth a cornucopia of food.  This time, in spite of our entreaties, he would not stay to eat.  He said he had too much to do and we would speak more freely without him.  Bruce and I consumed crepes and loganberry jelly, rounded out with fresh strawberries.  Barbara crunched her granola, casting covetous glances at our food.  We could not convince her to eat any of the crepes but she did finally take a couple of strawberries.

Then she turned to me and grinned.  "I can't believe he told you he's in love with you!"

"I'm not."

We both turned to stare at Bruce.  "Bruce?" I asked uncertainly.

"I am not one of those idiots in love, all gooey-eyed and thinking their lover is perfect and life is wonderful," he stated categorically.  He turned to face me.

"I...." He gulped.  "I love her, which is a different thing altogether."  We shared a look that, I suspected, appeared all gooey-eyed to Barbara.

"Oooookay," said Barbara tentatively, "I can see the difference."  She looked critically at Bruce and added, "NOT."

Bruce turned towards her.  "Being in love is about YOU, while loving someone is about THEM.  'Being in love' is ultimately selfish because it is about what makes you feel good.  The object almost doesn't matter because you don't really love them.  Instead you create this perfect 'soul mate' in your mind and you project that image onto the object of your love.  That's why people 'in love' attribute all sorts of good qualities to their lover that everyone else can see they don't have, and that's why they are blind to their lover's obvious faults.  Of course, sooner or later, as they get to know them better, they realize that their lover isn't what they imagined them to be and they fall out of love."  He sniffed.

"You're describing infatuation," I said.  He turned and smiled at me.

"Infatuation, yes."  He turned back to Barbara and continued.  "Loving someone, on the other hand, is about THEM, about knowing and understanding them.  You cannot love someone you don't really know.  That's why 'love at first sight' is such a load of tripe.  When you love someone, you see them as they are and you love them as they are, warts and all, not some imagined perfect soul mate.  That's the difference."

He turned back to me.  "I know Diana isn't perfect," he began.

"Really?" asked Barbara skeptically.

"She is headstrong and stubborn and too sure of herself and uncompromising when she thinks she is right."

"I can see how incompatible you are," interjected Barbara flippantly.

"She can be hot-tempered and occasionally intemperate and sometimes too soft-hearted."

"You sure you want a relationship with this guy, Diana?"

But I barely heard her words, for my attention was held by Bruce's eyes and the light shining in them.

"I don't love her in spite of these faults."  He paused for a moment and said, "I love her because of them.  They are part of who she is and without them she wouldn't be the person I love."

Barbara sighed enviously.  "Okay, I take it all back.  Diana's not crazy to want a relationship with you."

She turned to me.  "Although you do know that he has all those faults and more?"

I smiled.  "I know."

"And that he hides his emotions and pushes people away when they try to get too close?"

Bruce grimaced, but didn't object.  I nodded.

"And that he has no sense of humor?"

"I do too have a sense of humor!"

"He does too have a sense of humor!"

She smiled.  "Well, if you think he has a sense of humor, all I can say is, you must be in love with him."

"Thank you, Barbara," Bruce responded dryly.

Barbara rolled away from the table.  "I need to use the little girl's room.  Diana, come with me?"

It occurred to me that she might need assistance and wouldn't want to ask Bruce or Alfred.  I nodded and stood.

As she rolled down the hall, she said, "You know a relationship with Bruce isn't going to be easy?"

"No," I agreed.  "Not easy, but worth it."

"I'm glad you think so.  We all care about the big guy and, well, if this goes south, I think it's going to really tear him up.  As bad as Jason, maybe."

I hadn't thought of it in quite those terms.  Could I hurt Bruce as much as the death of his ward, Jason Todd?

"In other words," I suggested, "don't screw it up?"

She grimaced.  "I was thinking more about Bruce screwing it up.  He doesn't have a great track record with women, you know."

By this time, we had reached the bathroom.  Barbara turned the knob and pushed her way in.

"If he does something stupid or acts like a jerk – which is almost guaranteed to happen at some point, I think it's programmed into the Y chromosome – or his attitude gets to you or, well, anything, give one of us a call.  We'll be happy to do whatever we can to help, provide a shoulder to cry on or go knock some sense into him – because it's just as certain that he won't have meant to hurt you.  At least, he better not have."  She stopped and sighed, then started shifting herself onto the toilet.  "We'll do whatever we can to keep him from being hurt again," she concluded softly.

I was fascinated by the ease and grace with which she managed the operation.  "You do that so easily," I marveled.  "You clearly didn't invite me along for assistance."

"Nope."  She smiled.  "I just wanted a chance for a private chat."

It occurred to me that she might want a little privacy.  I turned my back.  "It's good to know he has people who care about him so much."

"He has a FAMILY," Barbara corrected me firmly.  "Okay, you can turn around now."  She managed the shift back onto her wheelchair with, if anything, more grace than before.  Noticing my rapt interest, she raised her arms and tossed her head.  "TA DA!  And now for my next trick...."

Recognition burst upon me.  "You were Batgirl," I exclaimed.  "The original Batgirl.  We fought together against Queen Bee."

Barbara looked chagrined.  "How... I mean... oh shit."  She shrugged and tried to smile.  "Yeah, I was Batgirl.  How did you make me?"

"The look on your face.  It was just like after we beat Queen Bee.  I'll never forget that look.  It was so full of joy and exuberance and self-confidence.  I always wondered what happened to you," I finished sadly.

She gave me a crooked half-smile.  "Now you know."

I nodded towards her legs.  "Was it in action?"

"No.  I... answered the door without checking to see who was on the other side.  Ironic, huh?"  She smiled bitterly, then shook her head and tried to give me a real smile.

"It is good to know you are still overcoming adversity and winning victories, even if they are a different sort of victory," I said.

"Is that what I'm doing?" she asked mockingly.  "Is that how you see it?"

"It's not how I see it that matters," I told her.  "Queen Bee or a toilet, if you can smile like that, then it's a victory."

She looked at me for a long moment, then gave a genuine smile.  "Bruce is a lucky man."

"And I am a lucky woman."

"Yeah, in many ways, I think you are.  Just as long as you don't let his, uh, less desirable traits get you down."

"The bad with the good, I don't get to pick and choose.  I've had to remind myself of that already."

"I can believe it."  And, laughing together, we set out back towards the kitchen.

Author's Note:  Batgirl fought Queen Bee alongside the JLA in issue 60 of the original Justice League of America book.  I can't remember whether Wonder Woman was in that issue and I have no idea whether it considered in continuity anymore.  I have assumed both for the purposes of this story.  Bruce's opinions on love are his own and do not necessarily represent the views of the management, who take no responsibility for them!


	5. Sunday Morning continued

Chapter 5  --  Sunday Morning (continued)

 All characters (except for Swifty and Athena) are the property of DC Comics.  No money is being made on this story and no infringement of copyright is intended.

In the hallway outside the kitchen, Barbara stopped and spun her wheelchair to face me.  She grimaced, then spoke.

"There's something I should tell you.  It's kinda ridiculous to keep it secret at this point and it makes things awkward for the others if I don't tell you."

She stopped, pushed a hand through her hair and grimaced again.

"If you're not comfortable with telling me, then don't," I urged her.

"No, no, it's just... well, in this family, keeping secrets is engrained in you.  And everything is a secret."  She sighed.  "But you should know.  It'll make things easier and it's not like I don't trust you."

She stopped again and swallowed.  Then she looked up at me and said, "I'm Oracle."

"Yes, I know."

Her eyes widened at this.  "You know?" she squeaked.

I nodded.

"Did Bruce tell you?" she demanded.

"No," I replied, surprised that she would need to ask.  Didn't she know him better than that?  He would never reveal a confidence without permission.

"Then how did you know?"

"It was something Dick said," I told her, "last Friday.  He mentioned a 'Babs' who he visits and who he obviously cares about.  When Bruce introduced you, I realized you were 'Babs'."

Barbara nodded her understanding.

"And I was reminded of something Donna told me.  She said the reason she knew Oracle was a woman was that Dick was in love with her.  She said you could hear it in his voice whenever he talked to Oracle."

"I am going to KILL him," Barbara spat out with sudden vehemence.

I was taken aback.  "Dick?  But why?"

"How could he be so careless?  He should understand about secret identities, after all these years!"

"But it's not like he did it intentionally.  Unless," it suddenly occurred to me, "you object to his mentioning you to me?"

Barbara waved that away.  "Of course not.  But anyone could overhear...."

"Only another Titan.  And it wouldn't mean anything unless they also knew that Dick Grayson loves Barbara Gordon.  How many people know that?"

Barbara suddenly blushed.  "Only people who already know my secret," she admitted.  "Okay, I won't kill him.  I'll just roast him alive in boiling oil."

"Much more appropriate," I told her seriously.  She grinned at that.  Then she sighed and spun her wheelchair back around.  We headed into the kitchen.

Alfred was gathering up the dirty dishes.  Bruce was still seated at the table.  He turned to look at us.

"I see you told her," he said to me.  I blinked.  How did he know?

"You knew that she knew?" Barbara demanded.  Alfred blinked at this confusing question.  Bruce merely smiled.

"I knew what sources of information she had," he responded.

"In other words," translated Barbara acerbically, "you heard Dick blabbing about me the other morning and you knew Donna would gossip about how all the Titans know he's in love with Oracle.  If you knew that, why didn't you warn me?"

"Barbara, you are THE information source for the superhero community.  Furthermore, you hear how he talks to you, something I only occasionally get to observe.  If you didn't know, it's because you didn't want to know.  You like the way he talks to you and you don't want him to stop."

"Of course you would stand up for him," sniffed Barbara.

"I am not standing up for him," explained Bruce patiently.  "I think it is a grievous breach of security.  However, it's not my place to object.  It's YOUR place.  Besides," he added, "by the time I learned of it, it was too late to do anything.  The original Titans were already gossiping."

"Hmpf," snorted Barbara, which, I felt, indicated she could find no fault with Bruce's logic.

"If we can change the subject," continued Bruce, "I thought I would take Diana to meet Athena and Swifty."

Athena?  I knew he could not be referring to the goddess, but the name still caught my attention.  I looked questioningly at Bruce, but his attention was still on Barbara, whose face suddenly lightened.

"Oh, I haven't seen them in years," she exclaimed.

"Come with us," Bruce offered.

Sadness crept into her expression.  "No, it wouldn't be the same."  Her hands unconsciously caressed her wheelchair.

"I recently made them 'wheelchair-accessible'," Bruce told her.  "I know it still won't be quite the same, but it might be fun."

"How could you...?"

"Come and see," Bruce replied calmly.  "If nothing else," he added, "you could give me your expert opinion on how well the modifications work."

Barbara broke into a smile.  "You're on!"  Obviously knowing the way, she spun her wheelchair around and headed for the door leading to the outside.  Bruce and Alfred shared the slightest of smiles and then Alfred disappeared out another door while Bruce turned to me.

"That dress, although lovely on you, isn't suitable for riding.  Alfred has found riding pants and a blouse for you."

"Athena and Swifty are horses?" I guessed.

"Athena was my mother's horse," he answered.  "We had to put my father's horse down some years ago.  Swifty was... was to be mine."

Alfred returned and handed me the clothes.  I hurried to the bathroom and changed.  Bruce was waiting for me when I came out.

"Sorry," he murmured.  "This is not how I planned it."

"Don't be," I told him.  "I saw how her face lit up.  That's worth sacrificing a little of our day for."

"I'm glad you feel that way."

We walked out of the same door Barbara had used and headed down the gravel path in silence.  After a minute, he said, "This used to be a working farm, you know.  As late as my grandfather's day, the estate produced most of the food and fodder we used, although by then it was more of an eccentricity of my grandfather's than anything else.  My father let all that lapse, but he never forgot riding the rounds with my grandfather, checking on the running of the farm.  My mother was an avid horsewoman.  So as soon as I was old enough, they taught me to ride a pony.  Her name was Marigold."

His mouth quirked.  "I did NOT name her, she came with that name.  She died a few years back."

He shook his head, as if to dislodge the sad memory.  "At any rate, once the wonder of it wore off, I started campaigning for a horse.  They finally bought me Swifty for my eighth birthday.  I got to name her, as you might guess from the name.  The catch was that I had to prove to them that I could take care of her before I could ride her.  And I had to learn to ride all over again.  They kept telling me that a horse was very different than a pony, although they promised me that it would go much faster than the first time.  But then...."

He was quiet for a long moment, then, "But then they died.  And I refused to have anything to do with Swifty.  I can't say why exactly, but I guess in some way I associated her with their deaths.  As if they died because they gave in and bought her for me.  Silly, I know."

"No," I corrected him, thinking of my own mother's death.  "Not silly, just human.  Grief expresses itself in ways that do not necessarily make sense to anyone, even yourself."

He stopped, turned and looked at me for a long moment, then turned back towards the path and we resumed walking.  "Well, it certainly didn't make sense to Alfred.  After awhile, he started making noises about selling the horses.  I forbade him to.  I told him he was a servant and had to do what I said."  He chuckled at that.  "I was an obnoxious little brat, but Alfred knew how to deal with me.  He sent me off to bed with a stern lecture on manners in place of dinner.  The next morning he brought breakfast up to my room and offered me a deal.  If I took care of the horses and saw to it that they were properly exercised, then they could stay.

"So I did, although it almost killed me to see someone else riding their horses.  At first, I asked a neighborhood girl I knew to exercise Swifty for me.  She asked me why I didn't ride Swifty myself.  Asked several times, in fact.  I ignored her questions and soon she stopped asking, but I could always feel the question in her eyes when she came over.  After I had complained about her to Alfred who knows how many times – I never told him the real reason she annoyed me, but I think he knew – he casually mentioned that if I was determined to fight crime, I would need to be an accomplished rider."

"So you knew even then?"

He nodded.  "Not how I would achieve it, but the goal, yes, I knew by then.

"I was surprised by Alfred's comment, but he pointed out that there were many places a horse can go that a vehicle can't and that evil-doers would inevitably go where they thought I couldn't reach them.  I thought about this for a couple of weeks and then I started exercising Swifty myself.  The girl was very disappointed."

He smiled a little at this.  I could see now where we were going.  It was an ordinary-looking stable, which surprised me.  I had somehow expected it to look high-tech or special in some way, but it looked much as it must have in previous generations going back to the American Revolution and beyond.

"As I grew older, I also rode Athena and Satan, my father's horse.  And, as they came along, I taught first Dick and then Barbara to ride.  You would think Dick, growing up in a circus, would have been an accomplished rider but, although he knew how to ride an elephant, he could barely stay on a horse.  Barbara fell in love with riding and would come and exercise the horses for me even after she gave up being Batgirl.  Swifty was always her favorite.

"All that ended when the Joker shot her."

"The Joker?  She didn't mention that part."

His face tightened and his hands curled into fists.

"I owe him so many debts and I cannot, I CANNOT pay them back," he murmured under his breath.

I put my hand on his shoulder in understanding.

"Hurry up, you slowpokes!" drifted out of the open doors of the stable.

I could see the muscles of his face loosen.  Almost, he smiled.  He held out his arm to me.  "Shall we?" he asked.  I put my arm through his and we continued on into the stable.

Only two stalls were occupied and Barbara was in the stall between them.  It took me a moment to make sense of what I was seeing, then I realized that an open elevator had been installed there, allowing Barbara to adjust her height to whatever level was convenient.  The walls of the horses' stalls slid down, giving her access to the horses.  She had put a rather odd looking saddle on the nearer horse and was lowering the elevator to cinch the saddle tight.

"I see you found the special saddle," Bruce commented.

"Well, it was pretty obvious," Barbara answered, as she raised the elevator up a little to slip the bridle over the horse's head.  The horse was a roan and obvious old but, to my eye, still fit.  Her ears flicked back and forth every time the elevator went up or down, but otherwise she seemed unconcerned.

"Fortunately, they both have placid dispositions," Bruce noted.  "And it doesn't hurt that they are nearly as old as I am."

"If you don't get moving, I'm going to be finished before you even start," Barbara scolded him.  "And don't think I'm going to wait for you, because I won't."

"Yes, ma'am," Bruce responded placidly and went to gather up his own tack.  I wandered over to look at Athena.  She was a dapple-gray whose coloring reminded me of Athena's Owl, which was presumably how she got her name.  She looked to be even older than Swifty but also in good shape.  I called her name and her ears flicked forward.  She turned her head and eyed me.  She seemed to like what she saw, for she snorted softly.  I entered her stall and put out my hand.  She snuffled it, seemingly disappointed to find nothing to eat.

"I'm sorry, my beauty," I told her.  "No one told me about you or I would have brought you a treat."

She seemed to accept this, so I stroked her neck while murmuring in her ear.  She was immaculately groomed.  I wondered if Bruce found the time to do it himself, in keeping with that ancient accord, or if he hired someone to do it.  I spotted Bruce coming out of the tack room, carrying a blanket and a bridle.

"No saddle?" I asked.

"I thought Amazons rode without a saddle in the Ancient Greek manner," he replied.

I smiled.  Of course he knew.  "Aren't you going to ride?"

"She's getting a little old to bear my weight.  I'll jog alongside you.  She's not really up to more than a trot anymore."

I looked over the gray sweat suit he was wearing.  "Well, you are dressed for it."

Barbara had finished with her own tack.  She raised the elevator up to its maximum height, then reached up and grabbed a bar above the horse that I hadn't noticed before.  In a single, easy motion – as if she had been doing it all her life – she pulled herself up over the horse and lowered herself down onto the saddle.  I realized why the saddle had looked so odd: it was raised in front and back, to give a much tighter, more secure fit.  She reached down one hand to fasten the straps to hold her legs in place.  In a few moments, she was strapped securely into the saddle.  That was potentially dangerous if the horse ran away with her – which seemed unlikely – or fell.  As long as she exercised some care, the risk was probably minor and was not likely to trouble a woman who had once regularly thrown herself off buildings, with only her skill with a jumpline to save her from certain death.

I watched Barbara expertly back Swifty out of her stall.  I turned back to Athena.  By this time, Bruce had finished putting the bridle on her and was spreading the blanket.

"You better mount.  We don't want to try her patience too much."

I nodded and, after asking permission and getting a snort of assent from Athena, I placed my hands on her back and vaulted onto her.  I used my flying ability to lessen the impact and Athena's ears flicked forward at this.  Clearly, she wasn't used to riders who could fly.  With a nudge of my knees, I sent her following Swifty.

"Come on!" shouted Barbara and with a light swat to her hindquarters, sent Swifty trotting along a well-worn bridal path.  Athena followed Swifty without prompting and Bruce jogged alongside.  We passed down a tree-shadowed boulevard and out into an open field that still held straggling remnants of the wheat that had once grown there.  Then up a small hill and, at the top, we stopped to look out over the ocean.  Spread out below us were rocky cliffs, the waves dashing themselves to pieces at their feet.  The morning sun had only just climbed out of the bank of fog covering the horizon.  A brisk cold breeze, laden with a salty tang and a fishy smell, seemed to blow away all doubt and dread.  The world felt new-made, well-made, a place of wonder, filled with the magic of nature and life.  Without thinking I sang the paean to Apollo and to Mother Gaea.  As I finished up, I remembered I had an audience.

"That was beautiful," Barbara breathed.  "What was it?"

"A paean – a prayer, you would call it, although hymn might be closer – to Apollo, the Sun God, and Gaea, Earth Mother.  It seemed appropriate."

Bruce said nothing, but radiated disapproval.  Barbara either didn't notice or ignored it.  "Come on.  The day's awasting and we don't want the horses to get cold standing here."  She led us back down the hill.

We continued across another field, which looked like it had once been filled with oats, and reached a flat green sward.  A large oak stood at the far end.  Barbara stopped and waited for Bruce, who had lagged a bit.

"A gallop, just a short one?  To the oak and maybe back?" she pleaded.

He looked at her, then at Swifty and finally at the oak, as if wondering how that had gotten there.  Finally he said, "Start with a canter and see how that goes.  If she has no trouble with it, you can gallop back."

"Yes, mother," she replied mockingly and off she went.  Swifty didn't look like she was having any trouble with the pace, although she clearly didn't like being separated from Athena.  Which would no doubt make it easier for Barbara to get her to gallop back.

"Do you have a problem with my worshipping my gods?" I asked.

"Not with you," he replied, "with your gods."  He watched Barbara as he said, "They're like metas, only with even less morals."

The sentiment was not new, but the words still hurt.  I sighed.  "Yes, sometimes they do.  But that is not the aspect I celebrate.  The gods have many aspects, some less worthy than others.  I celebrate the immortal, ineffable aspect.  The Apollo I worship is the Apollo whose golden chariot is the sun that gives light and warmth to the world.  And Gaea has never been other than the mother of all, who weeps for each of her children."

Bruce did not look convinced.  Barbara had reached the tree and was turning Swifty about.  Even from here, we could see her grin as she slapped Swifty's side and urged her to a gallop.

"You do not have to believe as I do," I told Bruce, my eyes on Barbara, "but you do have to allow me to believe."

Bruce was silent, watching Barbara, alert to the slightest sign of danger or misstep.  It was clear, however, that she did not need our concern.  She and Swifty moved together as one. I could see how Swifty might once have deserved her name; even now she had a decent turn of speed.  Bruce sighed.

"Yes, I know.  I'll try to do better."

"That's all I ask."  Then I ventured a question I had long wished to ask.  "Do you have no god or goddess you believe in?"

"Believe?  No.  But I do hope that God exists."  His face suddenly turned grim.  "I have some questions to put to him."

I restrained a smile.  Only Bruce.

Barbara and Swifty slowed to a canter, then a trot and finally a walk.  She stopped in front of us.

"That was great!" she exclaimed, "but she shouldn't stand after a run like that.  Come on, I want to see how the wood is looking."

She urged Swifty into a walk.  We followed her over a rise and there below us was the wood.  It was not very large, covering perhaps twenty acres, and had a warm, inviting look to it at this distance.  As we got closer, however, it looked less and less inviting.  Everywhere off the path, it was overgrown with brush and thorny bushes and poison ivy.  Once we had entered, the trees were high and dense enough to block out the sunlight.  The gloom made it all too eerily reminiscent of the enchanted forest of the Queen of Fables.  I repressed a shudder.

"This is worse than ever," Barbara declared.  "We used to do wilderness training in here.  I'd hate to try that now.  Not that I could."  She looked down at her legs.

"Robin complains bitterly about it," Bruce commented.  "I tell him it builds character."  Barbara laughed, which I think was his purpose.

"I agree with Barbara," I told them.  "I would hate to train in this place."

"You?" Barbara laughed.  "You could just smash your way through it in no time."

"Just avoid the thorns," Bruce added.  We shared a look; he was remembering the Queen of Fables as well.  Barbara led us through and into another field.  She pointed out a small copse of trees atop a hill.

"That's where Dick and I used to picnic," she said reminiscently.

Bruce's ears pricked up at this and I wondered if it was news to him.  It occurred to me that the copse's attraction was probably the concealment it offered and the ability to spot anyone who approached before they could spot you.

Barbara trotted on ahead, but I kept Athena to a walk.

"After we finish here," Bruce said quietly, "I need to go visit my parents' grave."

I didn't need to be told that this was an important ritual to him.  "May I come with you?" I asked hesitantly.

"I would appreciate it," he answered softly.  He was silent for a few moments and then he added, "I haven't had anyone to go with me since I learned to drive.  I took Dick a couple of times when he first came to me.  I thought he would appreciate being a part of it, that it would help him to deal with his own loss.  But he clearly didn't get anything out of it and spent the whole time fidgeting.  So I told him he didn't have to come with me; he was relieved."

"Won't Alfred come with you if you ask?"

"If I ask, but he would rather not.  He thinks I obsess over their deaths and so I don't think its fair to force him to come along.  As for himself, 'nothing of them of any importance is there and I can better remember them where I knew them, thank you just the same, Master Bruce'."  His mimicry of Alfred's voice was uncanny.

We shared a brief smile.

"Hey, hurry up, you slowpokes!  You're falling behind."

I clucked at Athena and, a little reluctantly, she broke into a trot.  Bruce loped easily alongside.

Bruce or Barbara pointed out various points of interest as we continued our tour of the estate.  I was particularly interested in Dick's favorite climbing tree.  Bruce told the story of how Dick fell out of the tree when he was eleven.  Dick had caught a branch on the way down, saving himself from serious harm but straining his shoulder.  It had kept him out of costume for a week, much to his disgust.

This led to a round of "do you remember?" between Barbara and Bruce.  Many of the stories involved Dick and I was impressed by the number of nicknames Barbara had for him.  'Short Pants', 'Pixy Boots' and 'Former Boy Wonder' seemed to be her favorites.  It was obvious how much she loved him.  I could feel the pride radiating from Bruce whenever Dick was mentioned; it was obvious how much he loved him, as well, if in a different way.

The stories inevitably drifted onto the topic of crime fighting.  The dangers and risks they had faced nightly and the things they found humorous about it amazed me.  How they managed so well without any super powers, I could not understand, in spite of fighting by the Batman's side for years.

"... and the Joker said, 'That's a CUBAN cigar.  I would NEVER waste a fine Cuban cigar on the old exploding-cigar trick.'  Then he pulled a stick of dynamite out of his back pocket and said, 'So let's use this instead'."

"What did you do?"  I asked.

"Well, by that time I had finished working my hands loose, so I decked him," Bruce explained apologetically.  "Dick would have had something clever to say, but repartee has never been my strong point, I'm afraid.  Still, it did shut him up."

We came over the rise at that point and I saw the stables ahead of us.

Barbara reached down and patted Swifty's neck.  "I didn't overtire you did I, old girl?  You look like you're doing all right."

"They both seem to be holding up," Bruce added.  "Perhaps you would come and exercise them for me occasionally?  It would be good for them."

Barbara smiled.  "And good for me?" she added, a tinge of mockery in her voice.

Bruce shrugged.  "That's for you to decide."

"Well... maybe."

I dismounted and led Athena into the stables behind Swifty.  Barbara took Swifty into her stall and, using the bar again, transferred herself to her wheelchair.

I took the bridle and blanket off of Athena and handed them to Bruce.

Barbara said, "I'll take care of the horses."  She looked at us apologetically.  "I've used up enough of your day.  I know how hard it must be for you to find time to spend together.  And you aren't going to miss dinner with Dick again tonight."

She speared Bruce with a look to match the Batman's.  "Are you?"

"Evidently not," Bruce muttered.  Barbara smiled and waved at the horses.  "I always enjoyed taking care of them.  I had forgotten how much.  So go on, shoo!"  She made shooing motions with her hands.

I looked at her gratefully.  Bruce and I did have so little time together.  "Thank you," I told her.

She waved this off and grinned.  "Go have sex!"

Bruce reddened and his face froze into immobility.  I laughed.

"Actually," I said, "I think he is taking me to meet his parents first."  I grinned at her look of shock.  "Do you think they'll like me?"

Bruce grabbed my elbow and dragged me out of the stables.  I looked at his set face and regretted my light-heartedness.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "Did that sound disrespectful?  Because I didn't mean it that way."

"No."  His face relaxed.  "I wanted to get you out of there before Barbara found her tongue again, that's all.  It's clear that I don't dare leave you two together.  You just egg each other on.  No, that is... sort of how I feel about it.  That I'm taking you to meet them, I mean.  I know it's nonsense.  You probably got a better sense of who they are from the portraits and certainly from Alfred's stories.  But, still, that's how I feel."

We walked down the path back to the house.  Suddenly, he added, self-consciously, "I talk to them, sometimes.  When something is particularly troubling me or when I have good news I want to share with someone."

I was struck by his statement.  Don't you realize, Bruce, that you have a whole LIVING family to share the good news as well as the troubles with?  But his habits of privacy ran so deep that perhaps he only felt comfortable sharing confidences with the dead.

"Does it help?" I asked, "talking to them?"

"Sometimes."

We reached the door into the house.  I stopped and he turned to me inquiringly.

"You know, we are both hot and sweaty," I told him.  "We both need to shower and change before we go to the cemetery.  It seems pointless to do that twice."

I suddenly was uncertain whether I should have said anything.  If he always visited his parents' grave Sunday morning, then he might not appreciate the suggestion that he postpone it just to have sex... make love, I corrected myself.

But I could see the slow smile I was becoming familiar with spreading across his face.

"That's very logical," he replied.  Then his lips covered mine, bringing the conversation to an abrupt end.

Author's Note: My knowledge of horseback riding is extremely limited, so if people with more knowledge find my ideas about making the horses accessible to Barbara impractical, I apologize.  I know the ages of the horses (Swifty is 28 and Athena 31) are quite possible.  I have an acquaintance with horses as old and she still rides them regularly; and, of course, Alexander the Great's famous horse lived to be 33.  Barbara's career as Batgirl (in current continuity) is very unclear.  Nearly all of the stories are pre-Crisis and many are (by present standards) pretty silly and so are probably no longer considered in continuity.  What we do know is that, at the start of her career, she received some training from the Batman, whose identity she did not then know (Legends of the DC Universe #10-11); and that she learned his identity and gave up being Batgirl sometime before she was shot by the Joker (The Killing Joke, Batgirl Special #1 and more recently Gotham Knights #43).  I have chosen to assume that she discovered/was told Bruce and Dick's identities early in her career and at that time received more extensive training similar to Dick's.  The Queen of Fables fought the JLA in JLA #47-49.


	6. Sunday Afternoon

Chapter 6  -- Sunday Afternoon

 All characters are the property of DC Comics.  No money is being made on this story and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Note: This story takes place before the events in "Graduation Day". 

I stood back under the shade of a tree and watched as Bruce laid the roses in front of the tombstone of his parents' grave.  It was large and suitably magnificent, made of white marble topped by a beautiful angel, but I was most struck by the simple, heartfelt inscription:  'In Loving Memory of Thomas and Martha Wayne'.  Bruce bowed his head and stood there for a minute.  Then he stepped back a pace and turned and beckoned me forward.  I stepped up next to him and then didn't know what to do.  Did he expect me to introduce myself to them?  Would he think I was being silly or ridiculous or even irreverent if I did?  I didn't want to make a mistake here, where it was likely to matter greatly to him.

Since he gave me no guidance, I chose to follow my instincts.  I bowed formally.

"Mister and Missus Wayne, I wish I could have met you in life.  You must have been extraordinary people to produce such an extraordinary son.  I hope you know all the good he does and the new family he has created for himself."  I bowed again and stepped back.  Bruce looked solemnly at me; then he turned and we walked through the trees, down the slope and between the headstones to the car.

I wasn't sure that I had handled it properly until we reached the car.  Then Bruce shook himself and a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.

"Thank you."

I smiled but felt confused.  "You don't seem to enjoy coming here," I remarked.

"Enjoy?  No."  He seemed to realize that more explanation was needed and added, "But it's important I remember them."

"You're not likely to forget, surely?"

He was silent as he started up the car and backed it out of the parking place.  Once we were out of the cemetery and on the road, he said, quietly, "I was only eight when they died.  Unlike Alfred, I don't have many memories of them at the Manor and those I do are a child's memories: vague and increasingly overlaid by more recent memories.  But at their grave, there are no other memories to compete.  It's just me and them."

I thought about that.  I could see that, after more than a quarter century filled with many competing memories, he might find it hard to visualize them at the manor; but the primary memory he would have of his parents at the cemetery, I realized, would be of their funeral.  Even if he tried to focus on other memories or thoughts, it must still linger in the back of his mind.  What a sad and cheerless memory to keep returning to.  I shuddered.

Even though his eyes stayed on the road, I knew he noticed.

"Bruce," I said suddenly, "I want to tell my sister, Donna, about us.  It's the most important thing in my life right now and I want to be able to talk with someone about it.  I know you said I could tell Helena, but I won't tell anyone before I tell my sister.  It wouldn't be right."

He sighed.  "Just a few more days, Diana, please. Then you can tell her."

"And you'll come with me when I do?"

I saw the panic in his eyes before he suppressed it.  "If you wish."

I laughed.  "I wouldn't put you through that, Bruce," I told him.  "But I don't know why it matters to you if I tell Donna.  She's not going to spread it around, nor is she going to come and bother you.  If she bothers anyone, it will be Dick and he will patiently explain that the big bad Batman is not so bad, once you get to know him."

"I know that."  We drove in silence for a minute then he said, haltingly, "I don't like change.  I don't deal well with it.  And this is a big change, a very big change for me."

"You don't deal well with change?" I asked incredulously.  "I've seen you deal with ambushes, surprise attacks, plans falling apart, rapidly changing situations and general chaos all without breaking a sweat.  And you expect me to believe that you don't deal well with change?"

"That's different; that's tactical and temporary and the whole point is to put things back the way they were, to undo the change.  But this, this is a REAL change, a permanent change."  He glanced briefly at me.  "At least, I hope it's permanent."

"So do I."

"And..." he swallowed, "and I don't deal well with that."

He glanced at me again and I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before.  Kal had told me more than once that inside Bruce was a scared child that just wanted his Mommy and Daddy back.  I had never really believed him, until now; until I saw that scared child staring at me out of Bruce's eyes.  I thought about all that had happened to that child, to his family and to his city.  Maybe he had a right to be scared.

"All right," I said.  Donna would just have to wait a while longer.  "But we will talk about this again the next time we're together."

"About that," he paused and I raised my eyebrows.

"I've been letting things slide a bit and I need to get caught up.  I..." he swallowed and continued, "I don't think I'll be able to see you again until next weekend.  Either Saturday or Sunday, whichever works best for you."

I looked at him and realized that one of the things he had been letting slide was his sleep.  I cursed under my breath.  Of course it was.  Knowing Bruce, he had every minute of his time planned and he wouldn't give up any of his activities – all of which, no doubt, contributed to his war on crime in one way or another – just because he had a 'girlfriend'.

"Saturday," I told him.  Sunday would actually be more convenient, but that would mean waiting an extra day.  I could rearrange my schedule to free up Saturday instead.

He nodded and looked relieved.  I realized that he had been worried that I would be upset.  I smiled at that.

"All day?" I asked, "or just the morning?"

"All morning and maybe part of the afternoon.  That will depend on how my week goes."

Abruptly, he asked, "I know you have to leave shortly for your appointment.  Will you come back for dinner?"

"Will you be there?  You don't have a very good track record with Sunday dinner."

"I know.  I should be able to make it this time.  Unless some emergency comes up, of course."

"I'll come if you promise to spend the time I'm away sleeping."

He glanced at me.  "All right."

He hit the button to open the gates and turned into the long driveway leading up to the manor.

"You know," I mused, "I seem to remember you saying something on our first date about being in love with me."

"I said I WAS in love with you," he corrected me, "when I first met you.  I couldn't love you then because I didn't really know you."

"But now you do?" I asked.

"Now I do," he confirmed.

He pulled into the garage and stopped.  We got out.

"I still can't believe you drive a minivan," I told him.

"It's anonymous.  There are a million just like it on the road and the registration cannot be traced back to Bruce Wayne.  Besides, it has plenty of headroom."

I laughed at this.

"When you are 6 foot 2, it matters," he insisted.  He looked at me.  "When I want to show off, I drive the Ferrari or the 'Vette.  I didn't think that sort of display would work with you."

I laughed.  "Thank you for that!  No, I was just surprised, that's all."

We walked down the passageway from the garage.  Bruce opened a door that led into the corner where the breakfast nook joined the main part of the kitchen.  I had never been in the kitchen proper before.  It was all chrome and cream-colored tile, with a walk-in freezer, multiple ovens and stoves and every laborsaving device I had ever heard of and some I couldn't identify.

This was obviously Alfred's domain.  He was already at work preparing dinner.  He didn't speak but nodded at us.  The pork roast seemed awfully big for just three people but I didn't want to bother him with questions when he was obviously busy so I just nodded back.  We squeezed past him and Bruce did something to the wall next to the freezer.  It opened up, revealing an elevator.  This was evidently how Alfred had beaten us to the Batcave last Sunday.  The elevator was deep but narrow.

"Unusual shape for an elevator," I commented. "Just the right size for a gurney."

He looked at me and smiled.  "Yes."

"I imagine it has taken a gurney on occasion."

"Oh, yes."

"You think of everything."

"Not everything.  I never thought, for instance, that you might love me back."

There was only one possible answer to that.

The elevator opened before we were through.  I shifted a foot to hold the door open and continued our 'conversation'.  Finally, we broke apart.

"I have to go."

"I know."

"Get some rest."

"I will."

"Until this evening."

"Until this evening."

**************************************

He was waiting for me as I materialized on the transporter pad.  There was a look of suppressed panic in his eyes.

"They're all here," he said abruptly.  "Barbara invited them without consulting me."  All of whom, I wondered?

"Well, not Spoiler or Black Canary.  They don't know my identity, so she couldn't invite them.  But she invited Robin and Batgirl."

"To dinner?" I hazarded.

His look was the one he gave the Flash or Green Lantern when they couldn't keep up with his explanation of how he knew to cut the red wire and not the green one to disarm the thermonuclear bomb.

"That's just four against two," I teased him, as we started up the stairs to the Manor.  "We go up against worse odds all the time."

"You don't understand.  They're all detectives...."

"Trained by the best," I murmured.

"I'm regretting that, right about now," he replied grimly.  "They're all very curious about us.  VERY curious.  They'll be analyzing every word, every look, every nuance for special meaning.  AND Batgirl reads body language the way you or I read the newspaper."

"Oh."  That did sound somewhat daunting.  "Well," I said bracingly, "it can't be as bad as going up against Darkseid or the White Martians."

"You might be surprised," he responded gloomily.  After a moment, he added, "I'm not very good at this family stuff."

I smiled at this.  "You just need more practice," I told him.

He grimaced.  We reached the top of the stairs.

"Brace yourself," he warned.  Then he pushed the Grandfather clock out of the way and we stepped into the study.

Four pairs of bright, inquisitive eyes swiveled our way.  Dick grinned and waved at me but Barbara's gaze seemed somehow predatory, like a bird of prey eyeing a potential meal.  The self-possessed teenager in a tee shirt and jeans seated next to Dick on the couch was clearly Robin.  His cool gaze reminded me of his mentor and I was sure he missed as little as Bruce did.  The young dark-haired woman dressed all in black and gazing at me with unblinking eyes was obviously Batgirl.  Perhaps it was only Bruce's pronouncement that made her gaze seem so intimidating.  Perhaps.  It seemed to me as if even Bruce's parents, staring out of the large portrait over the fireplace, were looking at me in askance.

I squared my shoulders and pasted a smile on my face.  "Hello."

Silence.

Bruce broke it by nodding at the couch and saying, "Diana, this is Robin."

That seemed to break the paralysis and everyone shifted, except Batgirl, who continued to lean against a bookcase and stare at me.  Robin stood and crossed to meet me with his hand outstretched.

"Actually, it's Tim Drake," he told me in a quiet voice as we shook hands.  "Since Cassie Sandsmark already knows, there's no point in hiding my identity from you."

Bruce shrugged and turned to look at Batgirl.  At a slight nod from her, he continued, "And this is Cassandra Cain."

Cassandra straightened and walked forward to greet me.  She had not taken two steps before I knew that, if I ever had to fight her, superpowers or no, I would have my hands full.

Then she stopped in front of me and smiled shyly and, in place of a fearsome martial artist, I was facing a bashful teenager.

"Hi" was all she said.

I smiled back. "Hello, Cassandra.  It's good to meet you."

"See," Barbara interjected, "I told you she wouldn't eat you."

Cassandra turned to her.  "Not afraid of being eaten," she insisted, "but she's WONDER WOMAN."  There was a whole world of wonderment and hero-worship in her tone.

I blinked.  This was NOT what I had expected.  Suddenly everybody was grinning and talking at the same time.  Had they been nervous about meeting ME?  I wondered why I had let Bruce convince me that this would be an ordeal.

I turned and looked at Bruce.  He sat on a corner of his desk, looking increasingly sardonic as Dick and Barbara teased him about having a 'girlfriend'.  They seemed to be repeating strictures he had pronounced to them years before.  To my ear, it seemed fairly mild but Bruce clearly didn't like it, was uncomfortable with it and (more surprising) showed it.  He really WAS bad at 'this family stuff'.

Alfred appeared in the doorway to announce dinner.  Bruce was up like a shot and almost ran Alfred over in his haste to get out the door.  The rest of us shared a grin at this and followed more sedately.

Alfred held the door as we entered the dining room and I almost gasped.  Cass did.  Alfred had outdone himself.

The crystal chandelier was turned down low, but it wasn't needed.  Alfred had placed innumerable sconces on the dining table and around the room.  The soft, warm candlelight turned the cool elegance of the room into something far more homey.  Around the base of each sconce were arranged pine bows and several large sprays of roses were arrayed on the dinner table and sideboard.  There was no tablecloth hiding the beautiful cherry wood dinner table today.  Instead there were gilt-edged chargers at each place.  The china was a very different pattern as well.  There was a slight yellowing to it that bespoke age.  Even before I heard Bruce's soft intake of breath, I knew this was his parents' china.

The result was no less elegant than on previous occasions but it felt more relaxed, more familial.  The smell of the pine branches awakened a memory of Julia Kapatelis' house at Christmas time.  Christmas in Patriarch's World, I knew, was very much a family holiday.  I was impressed with the way Alfred had carefully set the scene for a family dinner.

Dick walked past us into the dining room.  "Looks nice," he commented, off-hand, "what's for dinner, Alfred?"

"Surely I taught you better than that, Master Dick."

Obviously stung, Dick turned back to us and gave an exaggerated bow.  "After you, ladies."

One place had no chair in front of it.  Barbara promptly rolled over to it.  Since Dick couldn't help Barbara with her chair, he tried to help Cass with hers.  She immediately turned and looked at him suspiciously.  Dick reddened and slunk to his chair, next to Barbara.

Bruce, who was holding my chair, chuckled.

"Cass has never been here before," I commented.

Bruce looked at me in surprise.  "No," he said slowly, "no, she hasn't."

I wanted to shake him, but limited myself to a pointed glare.  Bruce, you idiot.  This is your family.  Treat them like it.

Alfred now reappeared with a soup tureen large enough to feed a village.  Cass, who had picked up her plate and was examining it carefully, reddened and quickly put it down.

"Hey, Bruce," Dick called out.  "When you tell the JLA about your 'girlfriend', can I be there?"

Barbara and Tim laughed at this.  Cass kept quiet, but her eyes flicked from one person to another, obviously reading a whole subtext not available to the rest of us.  Bruce looked grim.

Suddenly, in unison, our JLA signal devices went off.  Bruce pulled his out of his pocket and checked the message while I was still digging mine out of my bag.

"We're wanted at the Watchtower, no details," he announced.

Everyone was immediately alert.  "You may need Oracle's help," Barbara began, pushing herself away from the table.

"If we need your assistance, I will let you know," Bruce interrupted.  "You can interface with your system via the computers downstairs.  In the meantime, there's no point in wasting Alfred's, no doubt excellent, meal."

He turned to Dick.  "Dick...."

Dick waved him away.  He grinned.  "No problem, big guy.  We've got your city.  Go have fun."

Bruce nodded.  "Thanks."

We headed up to the study and then down the stairs to the Batcave.  At the bottom, Bruce turned towards the transporter pad rather than towards the uniform vault.

"Aren't you going to change first?" I asked, surprised.

"No need."  His back was to me as he typed the coordinates into the transporter control system.  "We aren't going to the Watchtower."

"We aren't...." Enlightenment dawned.  "There is no emergency, is there?" I demanded.  "You faked it somehow."

He turned around.  His eyes looked guilty, but he simply said.  "Yes."

"Bruce, they are your family.  You shouldn't run out on them like that, just because you're feeling uncomfortable."

"That wasn't the reason."

"No?  You're telling me you're taking the night off from being the Batman – something you almost never do – just to be with your girlfriend?"  I asked skeptically.

He said nothing, which I took as a tacit admission of guilt.  I started getting mad.

"I ought to drag you back upstairs and make you apologize to everyone."

"But you won't," he smirked.  It was that infuriating, knowing smirk of his and I itched to wipe it off his face.  But did I want to knock it off or kiss it off?  But options were tempting.

"And why won't I?"

"Because this is the last free time we have together for a week.  It would be terrible to waste it on a row – which is what would happen if we went back now.  I can fight with Barbara any time, but the time I can spend with you is limited."

"This will be three weeks in a row that you cancelled on Dick," I retorted, but we both knew I was weakening.  He had a point.

"Dick knows.  Didn't you hear what he said?  He knows."

"Oh." I searched my mind for a comeback.  "Barbara is not going to be so forgiving," I replied.  It sounded weak even to my ears.

His smirk broadened.  He knew he was winning.  How was it he could argue me out of positions I KNEW were right?

"I know she won't.  Serves her right for planning this without asking my permission.  Since she's going to be angry with me in any case, let's not waste the opportunity.  Come on."

He tugged on my arm, trying to get me up on the transporter pad.

"If we waste much more time, she is going to come down and find us here," he added.  "Believe me, you don't want to be a part of that scene."

He had another good point.  Even if Barbara held me blameless – a big if – I did NOT want to any part of that scene.

"Ahem."

We both jumped like guilty children, then turned to face Alfred.  He was holding a large paper bag.  Mouth-watering smells were coming from it.

"I have prepared you a portion of tonight's repast to take with you on your 'mission'."

Bruce reddened slightly at this.  Then he smiled gratefully at Alfred as he took the bag.

"Don't let it get cold," Alfred admonished us dryly as he turned to leave.

Bruce grinned.  "We won't," he assured Alfred.  He turned at me with a look of such pure mischief that I had to laugh.  How could I resist him like this?

"Thank you, Alfred," I called to his retreating back.

He turned around to say, "Not at all, Madame.  Have fun."

We looked at each other and burst into laughter.  "We will," we promised in unison as the transporter engaged.

The End

Author's Note: Cassandra Cain (Batgirl) visited Wayne Manor twice while Bruce was in custody during the 'Bruce Wayne: Murderer?' story line, but Bruce is not likely to know that.  I cannot recall any 'social' occasion in which she has been there.

Author's Ramblings: I never intended to write "Sunday Dinner at Wayne Manor".  But Joe Kelly, the rat, sent Diana off on that mission in space and I knew it would be months before he got around to showing us their date.  And the story I was working on was being difficult and I let my mind wander and soon I was ignoring the story I had been writing to write something else entirely.  I didn't know, when I started, where the story was going.  I just started typing.  I don't know how it is with other writers, but I find writing hard work.  I love having written a story, but getting there is often a grind.  This story, however, just flowed out.   So I put it out on fanfiction.net and got back to work on the story I had been writing.

Then I started getting back some very nice reviews, and several people asked about a sequel.  Tough luck, folks, I thought.  But my subconscious had other ideas and one day, while exercising, I began to think about What Happens Next.  I started writing "Another Sunday Dinner at Wayne Manor" with no real idea where it would go.  All I really knew was that Bruce would walk in on Alfred and Diana while they were discussing him.  Once again, the story just took off on its own, leaving me to keep up as best I could and wondering what would happen next.

The first chapter was intended to be the only chapter.  But it seemed unfair to leave things hanging like that, so Sunday Dinner was followed by Tuesday Breakfast and... here we are.  Each chapter almost wrote itself; all except this last one which took forever to write, perhaps BECAUSE it was the last one.

Or so I thought.  During all this I sat down and read the "Graduation Day" mini-series.  At first I was outraged and decided that in my continuity, in the unlikely event I wrote any more Bruce & Diana stories, it never happened.  But then I thought of a scene that just begged to be written.  The problem was that the scene was short and left things hanging unbearably.  I had to come up with some sort of resolution to go with it.  One day, while I was exercising once again and thinking about this, the story took an unexpected turn and headed off into unexplored but fascinating territory.  Quite literally, a light went on, not in my head but in the story and I knew I had to write it, if for no other reason than to find out What Happens Next.  So this isn't the end, after all.  There will be a sequel.  The problem is the new story will require a lot more careful plotting than this one and so may take a lot longer to write.  Also, I am bound and determined to get that other story, the one I was working on before Bruce and Diana highjacked my creative processes, finished and posted.  After that, I plan to get to work on "Power Play".  I have only a vague idea of where I'm going and no idea how I'm going to get there, but I'm hoping Batman will tell me.  After all, he always has a plan.

Rick Peterson       August 24th, 2003


End file.
